


The Art Of Dance

by PunnyPearl



Series: Dirty Brother Stealer [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Dirty Sex, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), Fluff and Smut, Smut, Vibrators, dirty reader, its just really messy, paint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 23:42:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30046620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunnyPearl/pseuds/PunnyPearl
Summary: Dancing to make art has never been quite so fun
Relationships: Papyrus (Dancetale)/Reader, Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader
Series: Dirty Brother Stealer [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2210388
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	The Art Of Dance

**Author's Note:**

> (Smut starts at the first ** and ends at the second **)
> 
> Fair warning guys, this is my first time making smut. It's probably gonna suck, but practice makes perfect and all that jazz. Thank you for reading! Please leave critiques in the comments!

Wet

Dripping

Just absolutely soaked

You let out a sigh as white drips from your fingertips and onto the tarp you’re laying on.

Purples, pinks and dark blues are already smeared across the canvas creating a pretty kaleidoscope of colors, and honestly, you couldn’t be more proud or content.

You carefully peel yourself from the canvas, careful not to let any excess paint drip where you don’t want it, then you realize there aren’t many places like that, and decide to continue with reckless abandon. Once you’re safely off the floor canvas you take a moment to peel your clothes off until you’re left in just your underwear and simply overlook your latest creation.

Pastel pinks and purples blend into periwinkle and your infamous prussian blue, creating something of a vortex that, by itself, would’ve looked like a sunset by the beach through a drunkard's eyes. But with the help of pearly whites and canary yellows, your painting is more akin to a view of the night sky just seconds before dawn.

Your commissioner was… Strange. A famous monster whose name you’d heard a few times in passing but never really had the time to look up. On top of ordering a commission from you in the first place, he requested a recording of the whole process on top of it, which is something you hardly ever get asked for.

“It’s too much to look at” or “I only want the painting” are words often spoken when you question why they wouldn’t want a recording, but you think it’s the mystery that truly allures them. Not your current employer, though, oh no. He was adamant about seeing the whole process, from selecting paints to clean up. You’re honestly a little embarrassed about your current lack of clothes, but does it really matter in the end? Mr.Celebrity’s probably seen loads of bodies, most probably prettier than yours. What’s one more on the pile?

You shakily rise to your feet and waltz over to your extra set of clothes. A comfortable white sweater with multiple paint splashes decorating it and a set of black sweats that look as though they were soaked in bleach one too many times. Mostly because they were. Donning the new outfit, you go about cleaning up your mess. Collecting buckets of paint, half-empty spray bottles, snack wrappers and the like… By the end, everything is as clean as when you walked in, which isn’t saying much. Your studio was made to be colorful and dirty. Why should you care about a few splatters of paint in the grand scheme of things?

Finally done for the day, you press pause on your recording device and shut it off for the night, though you leave it on its tripod so you won’t have to set it up again the next day. The sound of your bare feet slapping against concrete fills your ears as you retreat to the back of the studio and click off the lights, then head home to retire for the night.

~~

“Hey, is this Mettaton’s manager?” A slight hum is the only response you get, so you push on, the burning in your arms incentive enough to get the conversation done and over with.

“I’m calling about the painting they commissioned a week ago. The project’s all done, and I’m here for delivery. I just need someone to open the doors or something.” The hum you get in return, while pleasant, is not reaffirming. What does ‘hmm hmmmm hm’ mean? Are they telling you someone’s coming down to get you? Are they telling you to get lost? You’ll never know.

Before you can question their meaning, the sound of a lock clicking and the eerie sight of the door swinging open startles you. Does this mean you should just… Walk in? The line goes dead before you can ask and you let out a frustrated sigh before pocketing your phone and hefting your canvas higher on your shoulder.

The building you’re walking into is posh, but simple. Fluttering drapes add an air of mystery to the place and you wonder what in the world the place is for. Eh, it’s none of your business. You just have to set this painting up in its designated spot and dip, send the recording of how you made it, then get paid and hopefully take a week break before searching for your next job.

The directions are pretty straight-forward; Enter the building, go straight until you reach the second hallway, turn into the hallway and look for room 132. Enter, and whatever you do, don’t fall in love with the skeleton. Whatever that means.

The hallway comes up and you’re getting giddy to finally have this job be over and done with. You search with keen eyes for room 132, and a bolt of electricity shoots down your spine at the sight of it. You’re practically giggling as you trounce up to the door and slam it open, not expecting to hear someone let out a screech of shock at your sudden entrance.

There, on the other side of the room, leaned against a wall of mirrors, is a tall skeleton with a tangerine blush dusting their cheeks.

~~

You awkwardly go about setting up your painting, paying the shaking skeleton no mind. What does it matter that they’re practically naked, only a skin tight (bone tight?) leotard keeping prying eyes away? It’s not like you haven’t seen skeleton decorations around Halloween, or even on crappy movies that like using them as a gag.

It’s honestly hilarious to you, a living, maybe breathing skeleton wearing next to no clothes. They even look like they’re trying to cover themselves up, but you can’t be sure. You’re too focused on installing your latest work and getting the fuck out of here before something happens to jeapordize getting paid.

Eventually, the skeleton seems to shake off their nerves and begins doing casual stretches. Their long limbs spread out like eagle wings and it’s honestly kind of funny to see. What does a skeleton even stretch? Do they have muscles you don’t know about? You fight off a giggle and get back to work.

Small sounds fill the room as you work, and what you at first assumed to be pants from exertion soon turn into moans and groans. The skeleton's tenor voice fills the room with lewd sounds and you have to literally grit your teeth to keep from snapping. Are they getting off to you working? A peek in the mirror tells you they’re not even looking at you, but their face is even more flushed than it was before, and if you aren’t mistaken there is a tangerine glow where certain erogenous parts of a body are supposed to be. Holy shit did you just walk into some sort of brothel? Is that what this is??

A quick search on your phone tells you this is actually a dance studio, but if that’s the case what the actual fuck is going on over there? Wait. You know what? This isn’t your job. You’re going to turn back to your painting, hang it up all nice and pretty, then you’re getting the fuck out of here.

With a plan in mind you rush through hanging your portrait, then take a few steps back to make sure it’s centered. The scent of orange blossoms and ozone fills the air the further you get from your painting, but you’re sure there’s plenty of room between you and the skeleton so you won’t actually run into him. How wrong you are.

One more step back and suddenly you’re weightless, the floor coming for your ass faster than your last partner. Fortunately, it seems as though skeletons are faster than gravity and sleazy ex’s, considering you’re suddenly wrapped up in bony arms and not sprawled out on the floor.

“ARE YOU QUITE ALRIGHT, HUMAN? THAT COULD’VE BEEN A NASTY FALL.” His voice is breathier than you’d first assumed it would be, though that could just be the… arousal(?) he’d been facing earlier. You’re still really confused about what the hell he could’ve been so heated up about when you see it. A little strap around his pelvis that connects to a strange button like object. The button buzzes continuously and all you can think as you stare it down is ‘weird kink, but ok.’

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for catching me.” You pull out of his hold and run the back of your neck, only to flinch when you feel the dried paint you’d forgotten to scrub off your body the night before.

“Hey, I know this is kind of a weird question to ask, but could you peel this paint off my neck?” The skeleton gives you a confounded look at your request but lets out a hum of understanding as you turn and reveal the smatters of paint left behind.

“OF COURSE HUMAN! THE GREAT PAPYRUS LIVES TO SERVE!” Whooookay, he actually just said that. He said that, while a vibrator is strapped to his pelvis, while wearing a bone tight leotard. A shudder goes down your spine as the flaky colors are gently peeled from your neck and you can honestly say that you’ve now failed at the one rule Mettaton set out for you. Don’t fall in love with the skeleton. Well, what else are you supposed to do?

~~

“So, um, what do you think of it?” You question aloud nervously as you step back from your painting, satisfied with your work, but still curious about what your newfound crush thinks about it.

“IT’S LOVELY! AND YOU PAINTED THIS? IT MUST TAKE A LOT OF PATIENCE TO COVER SUCH A LARGE CANVAS.” You almost snort at his words and quickly work to get the false pretenses out of his mind.

“Not really. This artwork was actually done completely through dance, no hands or brushes required.” You titter and watch as literal stars fill Papyrus’ eyes.

“REALLY?! YOU MUST SHOW ME HOW!!” He seems so excited, and you’re just so endeared to him… You figure, what the hell, you might as well show him if the video is available.

“Sure. I don’t have the video on me right now, but come to this address later and it should be all downloaded.” You offer the skeleton your card and he lights up as he examines the smears of paint you may or may not have gotten on it, only to later try to wipe away. Eh, whatever, the information that matters is visible. That’s all that matters.

“I’m gonna head out now. Seeya later, The Great Papyrus.” You throw a wink over your shoulder as you waltz out of the room, leaving the skeleton to his own devices.

~~

There’s a knock on your door just as you finish making lunch, which you figure is fine- you accidentally made too much food anyway.

“Papyrus! How good to see you. I just finished making up lunch, if you want some.” You usher the tall skeleton inside and practically push him into the kitchenette where the smell of herbs and butter are still floating around. He seems curious as he walks up to your stove and glances into the pan, finding a beautifully seasoned shrimp scampi and boiled vegetables tossed in butter and cheese.

“WOWIE HUMAN! THIS MEAL LOOKS DIVINE! ARE YOU SURE I CAN HAVE SOME?”

“Of course. A good host doesn’t let their guests go hungry.” You’re already holding two plates, which you quickly fill with the same serving size each. Papyrus follows you to the table where cutlery and glasses of lemonade are already set up before plopping himself down and digging in.

You wait for his critique, and Papyrus happily obliges your attention-starved heart. He prattles on the whole meal about how great the meal is, giving a few critiques here and there to make his compliments more genuine. You’re absolutely enamored with his voice and his enthusiastic way of speaking, but you can’t help but hear his moans from earlier in the back of your head. You momentarily wonder if you can get him to make those sounds for you, but quickly shake the thought off.

“Well, the video should be done uploading by now… Let me just clean up these dishes and we can see how it turned out.” Papyrus is quick to offer his help, and you don’t feel like refusing him, so he’s soon rinsing and placing your dishes into the drying rack. It’s mesmerizing, watching his quick movements and the soap suds as they dance across his bare arms. Your mind conjures up an image of the taller skeleton with your paint all over his body, but again you shake the thought away. Get your head out of the gutter!

Not long after you’re walking Papyrus through your studio, showing him your paints, canvases and tools. He seems even more excited to see the video as you go into more detail on each tool and the whole process.

“And here we are~ My office and the place I sleep after a particularly long day.” You gesture inside your occasional residence. You have your own house, of course, but sometimes it’s just easier to crash after work. Your paint covered clothes are handing on a drying rack, still soaked from when you washed them earlier, and your computer is whirring loudly in the corner. The sheets on your bed are also splattered with paint, but the sheets are surprisingly comfortable when you’re too tired to even walk.

“IT’S WONDERFUL, HUMAN. IS THIS WHERE WE’LL BE WATCHING THE VIDEO?” He gestures to your computer desk and you nod once before settling behind it and booting the video up. Papyrus settles himself on your bed, content to watch from a distance, and as soon as you’re sure the video is going to play, you move to join him.

For almost an hour you watch yourself dance. Jumping, swinging, leaping, spinning… It’s always astounding how long you can go without a break, and each new song brings with it a new dance style. You’d learned a little beyond the basics of most dances when you were trying to figure out your style and you couldn’t be happier watching yourself. At some point in time, you turn to see Papyrus watching you move with stars in his eyes, his own foot tapping to the beat of the newest song. His fists are clenched at his side like he wants to pick you up and take you for a spin himself.

The video is coming to an end and you collapse straight onto the canvas, gasping and panting as you catch your breath. It’s almost erotic when you peel yourself off the paint splattered paper, especially when you begin taking your clothes off. Wait… Oh shit you didn’t take that part out.

You watch on in horror as you sassily step out of your ink covered clothes and simply revel in your work. Your feet all the way up to your knees are covered in ink despite your best efforts, and your hands up to your elbows aren’t much better. Finally you rove your eyes to the curve of your ass and blush when you realize Papyrus is still sitting next to you.

“Ahem… Lemme just…” You scooch forward and press ESC on your keyboard, closing the video that somehow became a strip film.

“HUMAN…” You flinch at the breathy voice and turn to see Papyrus’ tangerine covered cheekbones. His brow is furrowed like he’s trying to solve a puzzle before his eyelights finally ignite and he shoots up to address you.

“YOU MUST TEACH ME HOW TO DANCE WITH PAINT!” Before you can speak he’s already dragging you out of your office and into your studio where a canvas is already set out. He considers the paints you have before gesturing you forward.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK WE SHOULD MAKE?” You’re still not entirely sure what’s going on, but if you’re really gonna do this… You might as well make something worthwhile.

“How about an orange grove at sunset. We could use some oranges and dark greens for the base, then add detail with blacks, browns and some lighter oranges.” You offer, and point to the intended paints. Papyrus lifts each canister like they weigh nothing before waltzing over to your fresh canvas. He begins puzzling over how to go about setting up the paints but you quickly take over, the familiar set up process calming your nerves and helping you organize your thoughts.

“If you check that closet, there should be clothes that fit you. Also, make sure to put gloves and socks on. I don’t want paint getting in your joints.” You offer and point to the simple dresser placed in the corner of your studio. Papyrus begins rummaging through the cupboards there while you arrange the buckets in the order you want them to be.

“DONE!” Papyrus trills and you turn to see him wearing a crop top and booty shorts over the black leotard you’d seen him wearing earlier. His gloves match the paint covering the crop top perfectly while his socks match the original color of his shorts. In summary, he’s a damn fashionista and you want him to pick out your outfits from today onwards.

“Okay. Lemme get changed and we’ll start.” You reach into the closet and pick out the first outfit you spot - A pair of yoga pants already covered in similar colors and a tank covered in whites and blacks.

“SO… HOW DO WE START?” Papyrus questions as you step up to his side. He seems nervous. A grin splits your mouth as you dip your hand up to your elbow into a dark green vat of paint before twirling out into the middle of your canvas.

“Now, we dance. Pick a color, and color, and just let your heart tell you what to do.” Papyrus still seems cautious, so you take matters into your own green covered hands. Literally.

The skeleton flinches when you caress his cheek with your dripping hand, careful not to get any of the paint anywhere near his mouth or sockets. You drag your hands down to his shoulders, then all the way to his hands. From there, you gently sway the two of you back and forth before pulling him fully onto the canvas.

Papyrus finally snaps out of his trance and rubs his cheeks, and you see conflicting emotions cross his features as he watches the wet material dribble down his hands. He seems disgusted yet… Intrigued. You giggle and twirl away from him, making sure to splash as much excess paint from your hands as you go.

Papyrus flicks his wrist, allowing the paint gathered there to splatter across the canvas. His eye lights flare at the spots of color now covering the once white paper and he moves to an orange can of paint, gathering as much of the color as he can before smearing it across the floor. The vigor in his movements causes some of the orange paint to splash across your back and you let out a squeak at the unexpected feeling.

Papyrus laughs at your discomfort, which only makes the fire in your eyes burn brighter. So he wants to play it that way, does he? You reach for a smaller can of forest green ink and dump the whole thing across the canvas before sliding up to Papyrus and pushing him into the pool of pigment. He gasps and reaches for your hips, attempting to keep his balance, but only accomplishing in pulling you down with him and covering your sides with amber colored liquid.

You giggle as you push off him, smearing your own paint across his borrowed crop top in the process. Only a quarter of your canvas is covered, and you’re completely soaked already. Still, you’ve never had as much fun making a painting as you’re having now.

For almost an hour the two of you prance around, streaking paint across the canvas and eachother. You find out that Papyrus leans more towards latin dances, and he also enjoys picking you up and swinging you around like a ragdoll. Exhaustion begins to grip you just as the both of you decide the painting is as good as it can be.

“Phew… I’ve never painted with a partner before. This was a lot of fun.” You hum as you look over your finished masterpiece. It looks nothing like you’d thought it would, but it’s still perfect in your eyes.

“INDEED!” Papyrus pants and attempts to wipe the paint from his cheeks, only to smear even more paint across his face. You chuckle and reach out, attempting to help, but you only succeed in blending the greens and oranges together. Before you can pull away, your hand is gripped by a gloved one, and you’re pulled closer. You aren’t a fool, it’s obvious the dances you performed weren’t entirely innocent. And he looks so good covered in your paint, panting in overexertion, little beadlets of orange tinted sweat dripping down his skull. So, you lean in, and let yourself accept whatever happens next.

**

Papyrus nuzzles his teeth to your mouth, and you don’t really realize what’s happening at first, until he pulls away with a loud ‘MWAH!’ You giggle a little at his theatrics before diving right back in, this time enthusiastically pressing your lips to his teeth.

The kiss gains depth as Papyrus runs his paint covered fingers through your hair, pulling you closer in the process and drawing out a moan as he gently tugs on your hair. Something wet an electric runs across your bottom lip that you vaguely puzzle out to be a tongue, which you gladly let enter your mouth. The two of you battle it out for a while before you pull away to drag in a few gasps of air, then dive right back in.

Your tangled bodies eventually lower to the floor, both of you pulling away only long enough to register your new positions before Papyrus is pulling you against himself. You run your hands under his crop top and against his floating ribs, revelling in the soft clicks that resound from the friction of your nails against his bones. Papyrus shudders as your hands climb higher and soon his shirt is off and you’re staring at his paint tinted chest.

“Papyrus… Tell me now if you don’t want this.” You warn, not wanting to go back but withholding yourself, wanting to respect his decisions. Papyrus shakes his head furiously and pulls you closer, like you’ll pull away if he lets go. You giggle into his shoulder before letting your lips run across the bones there, occasionally nibbling or biting when you find a patch not covered in acrylics.

The room fills with familiar moans and you grin wider knowing it’s you helping to make the sounds this time, and not some cheap toy. Papyrus’ hands roam down to your hips, gently playing with the fabric there before he slides his hands upwards, pulling your shirt along with them. He takes a moment to admire your squishy bits, occasionally pawing and squeezing at your sides, clearly interested in your fat and muscles. He touches a patch of skins that’s more sensitive than the others and you let out a giggle.

“Enough exploring, skeleman, or I’ll be forced to take drastic measures.” You warn and watch as his face turns challenging.

“AND WHAT SORT OF MEASURES WOULD THAT BE?” He cackles even as you press further into him, grinding against his pelvis in a slow, sensual thrust. That shuts him up and his hands are suddenly back at your hips, but it’s like he can’t decide between trying to stop your menstrations or help you continue.

Orange pools around his pelvis, you realize, and it’s not paint making that ethereal glow. Maybe you really can do this. You toy with the edges of his shorts, gently gliding your thumb against the curve of his hip bone. Papyrus gasps at the feeling and you feel his hands tighten before slowly following your lead, drawing out your own little sounds.

“Papyrus… please,” You moan as his deft fingers tickle your sides. You just want him to take you. Without even realizing it, you’ve already more or less taken his shorts off, one more tug and whatever that pleasant glow is will be revealed. Your own pants are more off than on, and with one final push, the both of you are free.

You take a moment to admire your partner, the mixture between pearly white bones and orange-green paint making your mind go crazy. Papyrus seems to be making a similar assessment as he runs his hands over the line that separates the paint from your bare skin. You finally lower your eyes to his pelvis where a glowing orange dick stands proudly. Stars you want that in you.

“ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS?” He asks, and as much as you appreciate his concern for your consent, you really wish he would just take you.

“Of course. I want you, Papyrus. Please…” You beg and Papyrus complies, lining his length up with your entrance, careful not to get paint around your dripping pussy. He’s so long, longer than you’ve ever had, but it’s not uncomfortable as he slips in and gently thrusts a couple times, making sure you’re really ready before starting at a slightly faster rhythm.

You move to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close enough to kiss around his chin before tilting your head and capturing his teeth in a kiss. Your gasps and groans occasionally interrupt the kiss, but he’s just as loud as you, if not louder, which eases your nerves.

Heat pools in your stomach and you gasp out that your release is coming soon. Papyrus whispers the same and soon the coil in your stomach snaps, relief and euphoria washing over you in waves. Papyrus comes soon after and you groan loudly at the feeling of his hot seed filling you.

You’re both still for a while as you come down from your high, gasping and panting in overexertion. If you weren’t tired before, you sure were now, and the feeling of paint sticking to your skin reminds you of your need for a wash. Papyrus probably feels much the same, you realize, and smirk at the idea of a round two in the bath.

Your partner finally withdraws from you and the feeling of his magic leaking from your entrance is strange, but not unwelcome. You know that Monsters can’t procreate without both parties wanting it, so you don’t have to worry about potential children from this. You heave yourself onto your feet and offer a hand to Papyrus, which he gladly takes.

**

“Heh… Thank you, for all of that. Um… You wanna wash up with me?” If possible, his cheeks glow brighter at your offer, but you notice the exhaustion in his expression. Before he can say anything about it, you lift your hands to his face and draw it closer to yourself.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna. We could just wash off, maybe cuddle a little, and take a nap afterwards. Take it at your own pace.” You whisper against his teeth and you notice his bones rattle when he shivers. So cute! Your smile widens as you take his hands in your own and gently coax him towards the bathroom where you fill the bathtub to a suitable level before lowering yourself inside. Papyrus follows and settles between your legs, and while it’s a little awkward to try to spoon someone as tall as he is, you make it work.

Mind if I wash your back? It might be hard to get all the paint off if you can’t see it.” You offer and Papyrus gives you his consent. You take a cloth and suds it up before gently running it across his paint covered limbs, exposing the pearl colored bones beneath.

You hum a gentle song under your breath as you wash his back, and the heat of the water mixed with the soothing feeling of bones under your hands makes your exhaustion even more apparent. You’re kind of glad Papyrus decided against a round two. You probably would’ve fallen asleep halfway through, and that’s never fun for either party.

Soon, Papyrus’ backside is clean and he offers to do the same for you, and you happily take up his offer. His bones are somehow soft against your skin as he slides his own washcloth against your back, and you practically melt into him as he cleans you.

Before you know it the bath is over and you’re watching the paint and water swirl down your drain. It’s always satisfying, watching the remnants of your work filter down into the abyss, but you soon realize you have an audience and a flush takes over your cheeks. Right. You should probably get dressed and all that jazz.

“Do you want any pajamas for our nap?” You offer as you waltz out of the bathroom and towards your closet.

“SURE! SOMETHING LIGHTER, PLEASE.” You nod and rummage around for a bit before coming back with a pair of yellow shorts and a white crop top, which you hand to him before going back to look for your own set of pajamas.

With clothes now covering your body, you pull Papyrus towards your office and practically push him onto the bed before jumping on top of him and snuggling up. His bones are surprisingly comfortable and don’t stab into your softer body. With his hands running through your hair and the soft rattle of bones that sounds whenever he inhales, you’re quickly pulled into the best sleep you’ve ever experienced.


End file.
